


White Blank Page

by orphan_account



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Francis-centric, Gen, so I wrote this, young!francis makes me happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:44:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1302019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But tell me now, where was my fault/In loving you with my whole heart::And wasn't he supposed to love her? Wasn't that what he promised his mother? Wasn't he supposed to do everything right where his father did wrong?</p>
<p>A character study of Francis</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Blank Page

**Author's Note:**

> I love Francis. Deeply and passionately. Maybe more than Mary does. Just kidding, no one loves Francis as much as Mary.

He did his duty, did he not?

He was supposed to marry this girl with skinny legs, a missing front tooth and strong opinions, was he not?

He saw what lack of love did to a marriage. He lived each day with a reminder that he was only a necessity, just a pawn to keep the game going. Never mind his father never followed the rules, not with alliances, or deals, or in marriage. 

For his fifth birthday, Francis receives a crown from his father.

His mother is the one that gave it to him.

“He wishes he could dine with you, my dear,” she tells him.

“He’s just so busy, you know,” she tells him.

“He will wish you a happy birthday tomorrow, I swear,” she tells him.

But his father does not wish him a happy birthday the next day, or the day after. And finally after three days pass since the day he turns six, he happens upon his mother and father in a heated argument in the hall. He shrinks against the stone, sliding to the floor and bringing his knees to his chest. He cannot bring himself to pick himself up and walk away from the yells that echo towards him. 

“He is your _son_!” he hears his mother say. It is a helpful and comforting reminder that one of his parents loves him, but a bitter one as well that the other is indifferent.

“I have a _country_ to run!” his father snaps back while his mother scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“Tell me, do you think about your country when you are in bed with Diane? Or when you teach that _bastard_ ,” she spits out the word, full of hatred and resentment, “to ride, to spar, all while I have to remind you of your son’s birthday and tell him that you gave him a crown when it was me who lied and said you cared for him.”

“I do care for him.”

“Well you have a funny way of showing it,” his mother says, stepping away from him spitefully. “He is your son, even if you never wanted anything but an heir from me.”

His mother sweeps out of the room, leaving Francis with his back to the wall and fighting the tears back, for kings do not cry.

 

 

For the first month Mary lives at court, he ignores her completely. He has learned from his father that mistresses are for loving and wives are for heirs. Just another lesson his father recites to him, when he deigns to talk to him. 

Mary is hurt by it, he can tell. She is obstinate and strong-willed. She will not admit it and has long since giving up asking him to play. He instead tries to find Bash and play with his knights. Bash has no interest in organizing military formations—he is not required to. It seems that under everything Francis does is a layer of a lesson his father taught him. The way he snaps at Mary when she asks if he would like to read with her, the way he stands a little straighter in the halls and a little less straight when he is in his room.

He hates it.

He hates the effect his father has on him. He wants to be kind and generous and playful and compassionate but each time he is, he sees the disappointment in his father’s eyes and the flash of pride as Bash learns how to use a bow.

His mother asks why he pushes Mary away.

“Because she’s going to be my wife,” he says, frowning at the copy of Virgil before him.

“And shouldn’t that mean you should be nice to her?” his mother asks. He looks up at her, his brow furrowed. Shouldn’t she understand? She is a wife, she knows what being a wife means.

“Father isn’t very nice to you and you are married,” he reasons. His mother’s lips part and sadness flashes through her eyes. He is seven and unaware of his mother's feelings and the true extent of his father's actions. His father is an enigma to him, a model of what he will be like when he grows up. Never mind that his father never actually talks to him.

“My dear boy, do not turn out like your father, I beg of you,” she says.

“But I am going to be King. And Father is King,” he reasons, confused. It seems that his parents have very different ideas of what he should be. 

“You’re father is a good King. But he is a terrible husband. Please, look at me.” She tilts his head towards hers with a finger on his chin. “If you can promise me anything, it is not be like your father. Treat Mary nicely, you will spend the rest of your lives together. She is a sweet girl and she has been through too much to be treated like your Father treats me. Swear to me you will be kind and gracious to her. And at all costs, _love_ her until your dying breath. It will make things much easier for you, and for her.”

He nods because the look in his mother’s eyes scares him. She is not a vulnerable person in front of anyone but the look in her eyes is nothing but that. He nods, because it will comfort her and because for the first time he realizes that being like his father is not always the best thing to be.

This is not the first, nor the last, lesson Francis learns from his parents, but it is quite possibly the most important. 

 

 

He approaches Mary after their conversation, holding a ball. She is perched on a window seat, a book in her lap. She is always reading. She looks up warily at him, her gaze flickering from his eyes to the ball.

“Would you like to go play with me?” he asks. Mary frowns.

“How do I know you won’t go running to your father and refuse to play with me again?” she asks defiantly.

“I am not my father,” he says and it is not the last time he says it.

They nearly get lost in the grounds and when Mary comes back with muddy hands and skirts, there is a smile behind his mother’s reprimanding look.

 

 

“You never play with me anymore,” says Bash when Francis is eleven. 

“You sound like a child,” says Francis before he can stop himself.

“You’re always with that Mary girl,” says Bash, ignoring Francis’ comment.

“We’re going to be married someday,” defends Francis, though he isn’t sure why he needs to. “We need to like each other to be married.”

“No, you don’t,” snaps Bash. Francis has obviously hit a cord in his half-brother. He adds spitefully, “What about your mother and father?”

“My parents are different. I won’t be like them,” he says, jutting his chin out proudly but still hurt by his brother’s words.

“Whatever. Come ride with me?” he asks, brushing it off. Francis frowns, thinking through his options. Mary had told him earlier that day she found a secret passageway and invited him to explore with her. It is extremely tempting but if Francis plays with Bash more often, he may not bring up his mother and his father again.

He lies and says, “I have to see my Latin tutor.”

Bash rolls his eyes and swaggers away to his other friends who don’t have countries in their futures and brown-haired girls to explore with. Francis feels a stab of guilt at lying to his brother. They have always been close, partly because their age. Bash is the one that taught him to truly ride a horse and they go riding together often, although it makes his mother furious. But Francis is reminded that Bash was wanted, or why else would he be here? Francis was needed and that is all. He cannot blame Bash for who he is but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to see his father’s smile around his half-brother.

Later, when he is running through the corridors with Mary, laughing and holding her hand, he cannot bring himself to regret his lie to his brother.

 

 

When Mary leaves, Bash does not understand.

“She’s just a girl,” he moans to his moping little brother. “She can barely run with all her corsets.”

“Mary can run perfectly fine with her corsets,” he defends. Bash studies his twelve-year-old brother’s face carefully, frowning slightly. Francis doesn’t speak anymore after that and Bash gets tired of waiting.

After a year passes since Mary’s departure, Bash and he grow closer. They discover that not all girls are gross together and spar often, each one gloating after they win. Whenever Bash wins their fights, he reminds Francis he is four years older than him and Francis just needs more practice. Francis ignores his brother’s comforts and only swings his sword harder. Kings cannot be hindered by age.

 

 

Francis is sixteen and Bash teases him endlessly about Olivia. His father watches him carefully when Olivia leaves and Francis is reminded that kings cannot have emotions. 

His days of wishing for love in marriage are gone and he only hopes that Mary is at least easy to get along with. He learns more about what is happening across Europe and lessons from his father increase, each more relevant to their current situation. He sits in on counsel meetings, bored out of his wits. Bash helps, they still spar, the stakes higher as they bet money and possessions. It’s so much more fun when they stakes are higher than just pride. His father often asks him what he thinks they should do in solving unrest but never uses his ideas. Francis knows he is being tested. His father has no care for Francis’ opinions as long as they will align with his own.

Life is more serious as a sixteen year old as the situation in England grows more dire and word is sent that Mary Queen of Scots is returning. Francis is unsure of how to react to this. He knows they were friends once but he is a proper dauphin now and she has a country to run. He would like to like her, but as Scotland grows to need France more, he is unsure that he should help. He tells his father this, but as always, his father is cryptic in his responses and he continues to be engaged to the Queen of Scotland.

 

 

This was not supposed to happen.

He was not supposed to like Mary. He wasn’t supposed to like _anyone_ , that’s not what Kings do.

Sometimes it strikes him how little Mary has changed since their childhood. She is still stubborn and impatient, though they have became endearing qualities instead of infuriating ones. There wasn’t supposed to being anything endearing about her, but there was.

From the moment she asked him if he wanted this, he saw his plans fall to pieces. Any idea he had about not caring for Mary and watching out for his country have gone down the drain as he is uncontrollably pulled towards her.

The spike of rage he feels when he finds that Mary’s life is threatened and perhaps by his mother is sharper than he has ever felt. She has burst into his life, complicating everything.

His mother made him promise to try to love her.

It’s funny that he tried not to and still did.


End file.
